


Mischief Knocked Me in the Knees

by der_tanzer



Series: Puppy Love [4]
Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-08
Updated: 2010-06-08
Packaged: 2017-10-10 00:08:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/93049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/der_tanzer/pseuds/der_tanzer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While the <i>Enterprise</i> fights off Klingons, Chekov fights for the one he loves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mischief Knocked Me in the Knees

**Author's Note:**

> Title from REM's Monty Got a Raw Deal.  
> With much help from Oddmonster, my partner in Trek.

Scotty was just barely awake, a warm, sleepy Chekov curled in his arms. They'd had half a day off and spent most of it in bed, loving and napping and loving again, but really the loving never stopped. Not when they were eating supper or when they were showering before bed, or even now, when they were mostly asleep, Pavel's curls still damp and sticking to Scotty's shoulder. They felt each other's love all the time, reinforced by the physical connection, but not requiring it.

Scotty drifted off to the sound of Pavel's breathing and the feel of a slender thumb rubbing lightly over his ribs. Then, two hours later, he woke to the sound of a red alert and the shaking of their ship under attack. Everything else was forgotten as they tumbled out of bed and into their clothes, separating in the corridor to get to their battle stations without so much as a kiss or even a word. What they needed to say was said with their eyes and their hearts, for the love was always there and it spoke constantly, in a whisper that could drown out any fear.

Chekov reached the bridge just as the Klingon battlecruiser fired again. Sulu, who had just taken his position at the helm, announced that the shields were holding at eighty-three percent. The seat beside him was empty, the ensign who had occupied it lying unconscious on the floor.

"Is he all right?" Chekov asked, stepping over the body and taking his station.

"Hit his head," Sulu said shortly. "Medical's on the way."

Kirk ordered Chekov to fire the photon torpedoes just as the Klingon ship fired on them. The viewscreen showed the battlecruiser taking heavy damage, but their jubilation was short-lived as engineering went offline. Sulu hastily rerouted power to the phaser banks and shut down the battlecruiser for good, then began trying to establish communication with the rest of the ship.

"Damage reports are coming in from decks eight, nine and ten. Engineering is not responding and the warp drive is offline."

Chekov turned to him with wide, fearful eyes, and Sulu gave him a sympathetic look. He spun around and met Kirk's eyes, finding them less sympathetic, perhaps, but with more to offer.

"Get down there and see what you can do," Kirk said, phrasing it like an order. He knew Chekov spent most of his free time in engineering, that he understood the mechanics as well as anyone, thanks to Scotty's tutelage, so it wasn't purely personal. But watching Chekov leap out of his chair and run for the lift, he knew the kid wouldn't be any good unless Scotty was okay. Kirk suspected he would either have both of them on the job or neither, and his ship hung in the balance.

Chekov bounced impatiently in the turbo lift, hitting the override when others tried to board and turning it into an express straight to the bowels of the ship. When it stopped, he leapt out into the corridor and ran toward the main engineering room.

"Monty," he panted as he raced through the corridor. "Monty, I am coming. Hold on, Monty." The doors barely opened in time to keep him from running into them, and suddenly the disaster that was main engineering lay before him. There had been a fire—electrical, he guessed from the smell—and two crew members lay near a blown out control panel, their red shirts still smoldering. Pavel stared at them for a split second before determining that both were too small to be his Scotty. Then his eyes were scanning the ladders and catwalks, taking in the damaged equipment and wounded crew.

"Chekov, thank God," someone cried and he spun around to find Ensign Rhett hurrying toward him.

"Caro, where is Mr. Scott?" he asked, grabbing her hands as she reached for him.

"I don't know. He was in a Jefferies tube, trying to manually reroute power. He thought he could get on top of it in a couple of minutes, but he didn't come back. We need you to get the communications up. You can do it, right?"

"Da, but—" _but I want to find Monty_, was on the tip of his tongue. But that wasn't his job. And even if he did find him, he couldn't get help so long as communications were down. "Caro, help me. I will do what I can with ze communication computers and get as much power online as I can, but you must find Mr. Scott."

Ensign Caro Rhett was a friend of his, in spite of her sometimes overwhelming attempts to seduce him, and he knew she would understand. She was also a rank intern with no practical engineering skills, and therefore of no other use to him. Maybe on some other project, something purely theoretical, he would have welcomed her help. But he could handle the computers more easily on his own.

Pavel looked over the main communications console and saw in a glance that it would take more time than he felt he had. He grabbed Lieutenant Leary, Scotty's first assistant, and asked him where his chief was.

"In one of the tubes. I don't know," Leary said, sounding near panic. "Help me with this panel, Ensign." And, because he'd pulled rank, Chekov had to obey. So he was inside the console, splicing and soldering wires, when Scotty was pulled from the Jefferies tube and handed down the ladder to Dr. McCoy. He heard people talking, knew that Scotty had been found, but hesitated to go to him. He wasn't relieved until McCoy, who outranked Leary, called for him by name.

"Where are you going, Ensign?" Leary demanded as Chekov scrambled out of the console base.

"Ze doktor needs me. I am sorry, but ze engineers are here now." He leapt to his feet and ran after the medical team. The off duty engineering personnel, still streaming in and finding their stations, got out of his way, some of them patting his shoulder or ruffling his curls in support.

He caught up with Monty but couldn't touch him. Scotty lay so still, his face bloody, his skilled hands burned and blistered, testifying to how hard he'd been trying to set things right even as all hell broke loose around him. Pavel followed them to sick bay, nearly walking on McCoy's heels, only to be shut out at the last second. He protested then, demanding to be allowed to stay by Monty no matter what, and it was Nurse Chapel who intervened.

"Not yet, hon. You have a seat here and give us a few minutes. I promise I'll come get you as soon as I can."

"But maybe I can help," he pleaded.

"Not this time. There were a lot of injuries, all over the ship, and it's a zoo in there. Believe me, it'll be better for Scotty if you're out of the way."

Appealing to his logic was always a good move. Pavel nodded and sank into one of the chairs in the main waiting area, burying his face in his hands. He thought about that unconscious ensign navigator and wondered who was at his station now. If the captain needed him, he would have to go. On a starship, no one was ever completely off duty.

But thinking about Monty's still face, remembering how the blood ran into his eye from a nasty cut on his forehead, he wasn't sure he could leave. Not even if it was an order. Pavel thought about flushing his whole career down the toilet right now, ignoring a direct order during a ship-wide crisis, just so he could be there when his lover woke up, and wondered if he would let that happen. Sitting there with his bony elbows biting into his thighs, blinking back tears behind trembling hands, he hoped he wouldn't have to decide. He could save the universe three times before breakfast, but he didn't know if he could walk away from Monty to do it.

Time passed and the confusion in sick bay grew less. Crew members who had come in for minor injuries were leaving, either to return to work or to their quarters to rest, and still Pavel sat there, waiting. Some patted him on the shoulder or offered a few words of comfort, but he wasn't keeping track. Later he wouldn't have any idea who he had seen or what had been said. The only person who made an impression was the captain, who came down to get a firsthand report on the condition of his crew. Pavel begged to be allowed to go in with him and was gently refused. He saw sympathy in Kirk's eyes, but not enough to give him what he wanted. So that was useless, too.

Still, Kirk hadn't been inside for five minutes before Nurse Chapel came and told Pavel he could go and sit with Scotty for a while. He nodded meekly and went to his lover's side, breaking their hearts with his subdued spirit. It made everyone feel like there was something terribly wrong with the world when Chekov wasn't running and bouncing.

Kirk told him he could take some time off, but he would still be on call. No one wanted to rely completely on the third-stringer who was filling in while Ensign Yamoto slept the sleep of the comatose two beds over.

"Thank you, sir," he said quietly, not raising his eyes from Scotty's face. The cut was bandaged and the blood washed from Monty's eyes, but somehow it didn't make Pavel feel any better. He knew it was there.

"Bones, you'll keep me posted?" Kirk asked briskly, and Chekov supposed the doctor must have nodded because he went on. "I'm going down to engineering to see if I can do anything. Chekov, if I call you…"

"I will come, Keptin," he said, even as he stroked Scotty's arm.

"Good man," Kirk said, slapping Pavel's back hard enough to make his eyes water. At least he told himself that was the reason.

McCoy stayed with them after Kirk was gone, and Chekov finally got to ask how bad it was.

"He'll be all right, kid. He's got a bad concussion, some burns, and a few cracked ribs. There was some internal bleeding, but I got it stopped without too much trouble. He's going to sleep for a while now, and probably not feel too good for a week or so, but he'll be fine."

"Thank you, Doktor. I may stay, though?"

"Yes, you may," he said dryly, turning to check on the man in the next bed. Chekov pulled the curtain between them and bent to kiss Monty's pale lips. Then, very softly, his throat clogged with tears that thickened his accent until only this man could have understood him, he began to speak.

"Remember that first day, Monty? We were in the lounge the day after we destroyed the _Narada_, drinking and relaxing…" He choked a little and swallowed hard. "You thought that I could not handle my wodka, as if Russians are not weaned on it, and I—I was trying to impress you. You congratulated me on saywing ze keptin and I was so proud. Just being noticed by a man like you, of your talent and reputation…"

He paused again, wiping his eyes with trembling fingers, and then went on.

"But there was something I did not tell you. That I have never told you. I did not just hear from ze crew about how you beamed Keptins Kirk and Pike, and Commander Spock, from ze Romulan ship. I was on ze bridge, I had ze conn, and communication was open between us. I was listening to make sure they got back all right. So I knew what you did, I saw it on the console, but I also heard your voice. I heard your pride and excitement over beaming three people from two targets onto one pad, and I knew you deserved to be proud. Is a hard thing to do. Even I have not done it, though I know the calcu'ations." He leaned down and kissed Scotty again, overcome with pride in his lover, as he always was when he thought of those great achievements. "I was so impressed with you then, Monty, and I heard that no one else said anything. They were busy, yes, but someone could have taken a single second to let you know that your genius was appreciated. That was when I decided that I would find you again and tell you that I knew. I would not let you go unacknow'edged when you had saved the entire command of the _Enterprise_ singlehandedly.

"You thought I was arrogant because I was not surprised that you would seek me out. But really I was not surprised because I was also looking for you. Monty, there has never been such a man in my life as you, and there never will be another. You must not leave me like this. I cannot bear to be alone again." He rested his forehead on Scotty's arm and closed his eyes, hating the way his shoulders shook but unable to control himself.

Hours passed before McCoy returned, but Pavel still hadn't moved.

"Ensign, you need to go and rest," the doctor said gently. "I won't have you sitting here all night."

"No, please," Chekov whispered. "I must stay. What if he wakes and I am not here?"

"I don't think he's going to wake up tonight, but if he does, I'll call you. Come on, son."

"No, sir, I cannot," he said, sitting up just enough to shake his head.

"Don't make me make it an order. Just come to my office and have something to eat. It's been a long day for you, hasn't it?"

"For you as well, sir. But I am fine here. Please, I do not wish to leave."

"Just come into the office," McCoy said gently. "Or would you rather I call Mr. Sulu? He's your friend, isn't he?"

"No, Doktor. You do not understand."

"What don't I understand, son?" He pulled up a chair and sat down, keeping his hand on Chekov's arm.

"I must be here when he wakes. If I am not, if I am off with my friends, sleeping or eating when he needs me, he would be devastated."

"You don't think he knows that you need to rest? You think he wants to wake up and find you exhausted like this? Darlin', you may know Scotty better than anyone, but I know my responsibility. He's going to need you in the morning and you need to be at your best."

"So we are at impasse," Chekov said simply. "You have rank ower me, but I will not go. Call it disobedience, bring me up on charges if you must, but let me stay until he wakes."

McCoy rose, his hand tightening on Chekov's slender arm, and tried to pull him from his seat. Chekov resisted, but the other man was stronger and he couldn't win. Not that way. Instead, he relented just enough to turn in his chair and strike at the doctor's chest with his other hand. He knew he may as well have resigned his commission right then, but he couldn't help it. McCoy released him, his face filled with pity.

"Will you make me call security?"

"You must do what you have to, and so will I."

McCoy sighed, barely managing to keep from ruffling the poor kid's hair, and left him there. This kind of arguing wasn't going to get him anywhere. He couldn't in good conscience even call security. They would remove Pavel, of that he had no doubt, but they wouldn't be very nice about it. Not if the wiry little ensign fought as well as McCoy knew he could.

No, he'd have to be outsmarted, and outsmarting the Russian genius wasn't guaranteed. McCoy went to his office and thumbed the communicator.

***

"Pavel, honey," said a soft voice, accompanied by a light hand on his shoulder. He turned slowly, not wanting to see who he knew was there.

"Lieutenant. What can I do for you?"

Uhura was out of uniform, wearing loose leggings and a t-shirt that were probably her pajamas, and he knew McCoy had gotten her out of bed. He guessed that tomorrow he would have to face Spock, as well.

"You can come with me to your quarters. Just for a few hours, Pavel. Otherwise, Dr. McCoy will sedate you and have you taken away, and you won't wake up for a long time. Not until long after Scotty's awake and asking for you."

"No," he cried. "You cannot do that."

"No one wants to. But if you come with me, I'll wake you up in a few hours. And Dr. McCoy will call you if Scotty wakes sooner. But you have to come willingly. If you're sedated, you'll just have to sleep."

"Is not fair," he murmured, turning back to Scotty and stroking his bruised face tenderly. "Is just because I am so young that you push me around this way."

"Honey, if you weren't so young, you'd do the right thing on your own."

"And what is right? I think that the right thing is to stay here in case he needs me. Am I wrong only because I am young?"

"No, Pavel. But you _are_ tired, and apparently you don't have the maturity to take care of yourself. I understand, I really do. Remember when Spock was sick last month, how much I hated to leave him? Vulcans have no idea how to take care of themselves—they think that that stoicism of theirs will get them through anything—but that's what sick bay is for. That's why there are doctors and nurses—so we don't have to do it all by ourselves."

"Lieutenant, please…"

"Pavel, he isn't going to wait long. I've got maybe two more minutes to convince you, and then security is coming. I'm trying to be your friend here, and I really wish you'd let me."

He said nothing, didn't even look at her, and when she gripped his arm as McCoy had done, he couldn't even fight. This was why she was here, he realized. Sulu was the more obvious choice, the friend who could talk him into anything, but he would fight even Sulu right now. McCoy had thought this over and brought him a woman so he couldn't hit her. The Federation was all about equality, but he still couldn't hit a girl. When Uhura pulled on him, he had to get up.

"You're off to bed?" McCoy asked as she led Chekov toward the door.

"Apparently, I do not have choice," he muttered. "But you will call me when he wakes?"

"Sure. And you may as well get your sleep, because I won't let you in here before seven hundred."

"Yes, sir." The words were right but the tone was all sarcasm. McCoy decided not to call him on it, seeing as how he'd had a bad day and was staring down the barrel of an even longer night.

"And Lieutenant, you keep him in bed. If you don't hear from me, he doesn't get up. Understand?"

"Yes, Doctor." She released Chekov's arm and wrapped her arm around his shoulders instead.

Chekov was starting to feel inanimate, like a package that McCoy needed delivered and was handing off to Uhura. He went along meekly, looking back over his shoulder even after he could no longer see Scotty's bed. He didn't face forward until the door of the waiting room had closed behind him and there was nothing but corridor to see.

"I am not a child," he said quietly, trying to shrug off her arm.

"No one said you were," she replied, biting down sharply on the word _baby_ before it could escape.

"No one had to. What about Mr. Spock? Will he be angry with me now?"

"Spock's in engineering, working on the warp drive."

"Oh." Somehow he had forgotten that the ship was still damaged and that the rest of the crew was hard at work. His grief had not stopped time. Probably no one else was even aware of it, besides McCoy and Uhura, who were being inconvenienced by his willfulness. For the first time he wondered if he was being childish and his face burned hot with shame. "Should I be there too, Lieutenant?"

"No, Pavel," she sighed, giving him a little shake. "You should be asleep, like the doctor said. You're dead on your feet, and you'd never be able to keep your mind on your work anyway."

"I hate feeling so useless," he said, leaning against her as the turbo lift took them up to his deck. "If I cannot be with Monty, I should be working."

"There'll be time for that later," she said. "There'll be plenty of work still to do tomorrow, after you've had some rest. Look, Pavel, I know you're the genius and you're used to solving all our problems, but sometimes you have to take a break. The ship can go on without you for a little while. And Scotty can, too."

"He should not have to," Chekov muttered, ducking out from under her arm when the lift stopped and preceding her down the corridor. "You're really going to stay with me?"

"Doctor's orders."

He keyed the code and let her into his quarters, offered her something to drink, and wasn't surprised when she declined.

"Excuse me a moment, Lieutenant," he said politely, selecting pajamas and heading toward the bathroom.

"Pavel, you don't have to call me that," she laughed, sitting down at his desk. "Uhura is fine. Or even Nyota. It is my name, after all."

"Whatever you like," he said, and then the door was closing behind him. When he came back, she had turned down the bed and was sitting at the foot of it like a guard dog. "Are you afraid I will sneak out during the night?"

"I wouldn't put it past you. Now lie down, honey, and try to sleep."

"Could you?" he asked as he got into bed.

"Could I what?"

"Could you sleep if it was Mr. Spock in that bed with a concussion and a damaged liver? Or would they try to make you? After all, you are an adult."

"I don't know what I'd do. But I do know that I wouldn't punish my friends when they were only trying to help."

"Are we friends, Lieu—Uhura?"

"I like to think so. Just close your eyes and rest, Pavel."

"What will you be doing? You cannot stay up all night, can you?"

"I'll sleep in your chair or something. Don't worry about me, okay?"

"It seems I must worry about everyone today," he sighed, rubbing his gritty eyes. "If you are tired, you could lie down here with me." For just a second, his wan expression turned into a teasing smile. "You know that you can trust me."

Uhura laughed, knowing that there were few seventeen year olds who could honestly say that, and told him to move over. She genuinely liked Pavel for his humor and enthusiasm, both of which seemed to be gone at the moment, and often wished he could be the gay boyfriend she'd never had. Lying beside him, she felt him fidget and squirm, trying to find a comfortable position, trying not to touch her, and took pity on him.

"Come here, honey," she murmured, holding out her arm. After the briefest hesitation, he moved closer and laid his head on her shoulder. It wasn't broad and sturdy like Monty's, and though he was comforted, it wasn't the same. She simply wasn't the one he wanted. After a while he began to cry again, and her delicate hands cradled his head, soothing him until he slept.

***

The comm whistled at six hundred, after Pavel had been asleep for maybe five hours. He leapt up, instantly awake, and clambered over the protesting Uhura without recognition. It was just a few steps to his desk where he hit the communicator and barked a hoarse, "Chekov here."

"Morning, Chekov. I trust you slept well?" came McCoy's gentle sarcasm.

"Da. Is—did—may I come back, sir?"

"I wish you would. This man of yours is wide awake and giving me hell."

Chekov signed off without replying and began to dress, ignoring Uhura's worried eyes.

"Pavel, what is it?"

"I must go now," he said, stripping off his t-shirt and pulling on his undershirt and uniform top together. She averted her eyes while he changed his pants, but she didn't think he cared. Then he was heading for the door and she was scrambling out of bed to catch up.

"Is he all right?"

"I do not know. Ze doktor said only that he wanted me to come back."

"Wait, I'm coming," Uhura cried, but he didn't slow down. She ran after him, not even stopping to put on her shoes, and caught his elbow as he stepped into the corridor. He tried to shake her off but she was strong. "I won't slow you down, Pavel. Just let me come along."

"I do not need a babysitter," he snapped, still trying to break into a run.

"And I'm not one."

"Yet you insist on accompanying me to sick bay, barefoot and in your pajamas, because you do not think I should go alone."

"That's me being your friend, you little twerp."

Chekov stopped dead and turned to face her, his eyes wide with shock that slowly changed to sorrow.

"I am sorry, Nyota. But you must understand…"

"I do, Pavel." She released his elbow and took his hand instead. Chekov smiled for the first time since yesterday afternoon, and when he started to run again, she kept up easily.

Uhura stayed with him all the way to the curtain around Scotty's bed, smiling at the sound of perturbed voices on the other side. Scotty was arguing and he sounded just fine. Chekov squeezed her hand in thanks and stepped through the curtain.

"Pasha, there you are," he cried, wincing at the pain in his head. "Oh God, Pasha, when ye were na' here, I was so worried…"

"You two are perfect for each other," McCoy said dryly. "Neither of you believes a word I say."

They proved him right by ignoring him. Pavel sat on the edge of the bed, leaned carefully over Scotty's body, and kissed his pale face.

"I stayed as long as I could, Monty, but ze doktor made me leave. I could not even sneak back because Uhura was guarding me."

"They set a girl on you, did they? Poor Pasha."

"I am not sure, but I think I hit ze doktor before."

"Ye didn't."

"I was frightened, Monty. I do not remember everything, but it was a—stressful night. But do not worry about that. How are you? How do you feel?"

"Awful. My head's aching and I feel like I've been gutted."

"You had surgery for your liver. They have told me that it was successful, though, and you should not worry."

"Then I'll be fine, laddie. McCoy would na' lie to you. But I'm sure glad yer here anyway. I dreamed of ye sitting here talking to me, but when I woke up, the staff were all talking about an ensign navigator in a coma. Of course it was silly to think it was you when we were together when the attack started, but—oh, hell, head injuries make a man silly."

"Aye, l'ubimaya. They were talking about Ensign Yamoto, who was at my station when it began. Ze doktor thinks he will be all right in time. But I am flattered that you were worried," he added, blushing adorably. "Also, you were not dreaming."

"What's that?"

"I did sit here and talk to you for a long time. That was not a dream."

"No? You really said you were trying to impress me wi' yer drinking and yer physics?"

"Whatever it took, Monty. I would have said or done anything to make you like me."

"Aye, well, I like you fine, wee Pasha," he said with that smile that made the possible end of Chekov's career worthwhile.

Pavel bent down and kissed him again, this time on the mouth, slow and savoring. Scotty cradled his cheek in one hand, holding him there with no force at all, and for long moments they were the only two people in the universe. It might have gone on forever had the monitors not begun beeping and brought McCoy back.

"All right you two, that's enough," he said gruffly. "Scotty's supposed to be resting, you know. And the captain wants to see you, Ensign."

"Ze—the captain?" Chekov repeated, paling visibly beneath his freckles.

"The one and only. He's on the bridge."

"Wait, Pasha, what's wrong? Yer not afraid o' the captain, are ye?"

"No, Monty," he said bravely. "I will be back soon." He kissed his lover one more time and rose, letting go of Scotty's bandaged hand last of all. When he walked away, he didn't look back.

"What all did I miss?" Scotty asked McCoy.

"Nothing much. The kid was a little mutinous, is all. I wouldn't worry if I was you."

"Mu—mutinous? What happened?" Suddenly he was as pale as Chekov had been, but his heart was racing and his face felt hot, the skin too tight.

"Nothing for you to worry about," McCoy said and sedated him before he could ask again.

***

All eyes were on Chekov when he stepped off the turbo lift and onto the bridge. In spite of the late night, everyone was at their posts. Even Uhura looked fresh and well-rested. Chekov tried not to see the young man at the navigator's station; the man who might hold that post from now on. He raked a hand through his unruly curls, as if that would make him look less like a child who had cried himself to sleep five hours ago, and went forward to present himself to the captain.

"You wish to see me, sir?"

"Mr. Chekov. How kind of you to grace us with your presence."

"Captain—"

"Save it, Ensign. Let's discuss this in private, shall we?" He leapt out of his chair like a man who hadn't spent all night in engineering doing other people's jobs and escorted Chekov to his ready room. Chekov kept his eyes on the floor and refused to see any of his friends' sympathetic faces.

"Have a seat, Ensign," Kirk said lightly, gesturing to a chair in front of his desk. He went around to sit in his own, slightly higher chair, leaning forward on his elbows, chin resting on tented fingers. "How is Mr. Scott?"

"He—he is tired and in some pain. However, Doctor McCoy says that he will be well soon."

"Good. That's good news. But you, Mr. Chekov, are in slightly more trouble. Don't you think?"

"Yes, sir. I have no excuse for my behawior, and no case to plead."

"That's right. You disobeyed direct orders, struck a superior officer, and kept Lieutenant Uhura up way past her bedtime. Knowing that there's no excuse or justification for any of this, I still need to ask, for the record, if there's anything at all you'd like to say that might shed some light on these events?"

"I—I thought that Scotty needed me. I did not want him to wake up alone. Also, I did not abandon my station, sir. Had you called me to the bridge, or to engineering, I would have gone. I only did not think that I should be sent to bed like a child when I could perhaps be of use to Mr. Scott."

"I see." Kirk sat up straight for a moment, then leaned back in his chair and put his feet up on the desk. "So what do you think I should do with you, Ensign?"

"Starfleet regulations require that a court martial be conwened, where I will almost certainly be conwicted and stripped of rank, and perhaps drummed out of Starfleet altogether. A prison sentence would not be uncalled for, although it would probably be of short duration. Captain," he added, swallowing hard.

"Yes, I'm aware of the regulations. But do you think you deserve all that?"

"It is not for me to question the regulations, or to say what my own punishment should be."

"That's true, and I'm glad to hear you say it. Maybe in the future you'll be less likely to question regulations and direct orders."

"In ze—ze future?"

"Yes, the future. Your future, aboard the _Enterprise_. You do want to have one, don't you?"

"Yes, sir," he choked out, almost afraid of his apparent good fortune.

"All right, then. I understand, you know. I've been in love a time or ten, myself. But the job comes first, okay?"

"Yes, sir."

"So here's what we're going to do. You're going to be suspended from active duty for, let's say, a week. You'll be confined to your quarters during that time, with visiting privileges in sick bay, but you're going to obey the staff down there. And I mean all of the staff, without question."

"Yes, sir."

"If you can manage that without getting into trouble, then none of this will have to go on your record. We'll just forget all about it this one time, okay?"

"I—yes, okay. Thank you, Captain."

"Yeah, well, call me selfish, but I don't want to lose you, Pavel. You're an asset to the ship, to all of Starfleet, for that matter, and your loyalty is admirable. Let's just keep it a little better focused from now on."

"Yes, sir. I will do better, I promise."

"I know you will. Now go tell Scotty all about it before he comes looking for you."

Chekov hopped up, blushing faintly, and went on thanking his captain all the way out the door. But he broke the rules immediately by going to Uhura's station instead of leaving the bridge.

"Are you all right?" she asked as he leaned over her shoulder.

"Da, Nyota. I am fine, and so is Monty. I just wanted to thank you for—for last night. You are my friend, and I am sorry I did not realize it sooner."

"That's all right, honey. You tell Scotty we're all thinking about him, and I'll be down after my shift to say hi."

"I will." He kissed her cheek swiftly and bounced off the bridge, rumpled and pale, his eyes lost in dark circles of sleeplessness and fear, but looking for all that like himself again.

***

Scotty spent two more days in sick bay, resting and having the burned skin on his hands and arms regenerated. Pavel was with him most of the time, a rather subdued Pavel who followed orders meekly, but still had a bright smile and shining eyes for Scotty. He even smiled when McCoy was chasing him out at night, so Scotty wouldn't be worried. The only real sign that he was still in trouble was that he had to leave at all. If he hadn't been on suspension, he could have spent his nights where he liked. But Kirk had asked McCoy to enforce some rules on him, just one or two, to make sure he had learned his lesson. He had, and he was rewarded.

Scotty was also off duty for another week or so, and with very little discussion, he was released into Pavel's care. McCoy and Chapel escorted them to Chekov's quarters, making sure Scotty got into bed safely, and giving them a few last minute instructions. Then they were gone, leaving the navigator and his engineer alone for the first time in three days.

It wouldn't have surprised Scotty if Pavel was nervous, he sort of was himself, but his young lover had become a puppy again, bouncing across the room to secure the door before undressing and nudging Scotty over so he could crawl into bed.

"Ne lozhisya na krayu," he said cheerfully.

"What's that, laddie?"

"I said _do not lie on the edge_. Never mind, l'ubimaya. I will explain later."

"Yer awfully chipper all of a sudden," Scotty teased. Pavel turned onto his stomach and propped himself up on his elbows.

"Why should I not be? You are here. We are both confined for the next few days. Why not enjoy it?"

"Why not? Because yer suspended from duty and I'm on sick leave, ye daft bugger."

"Yes, but that does not change the facts. I will not incur an official reprimand and you will heal quickly. Monty, we have talked before about living together. Would this not be sort of a—a trial run?"

"That's one thing I love about you, Pasha. Yer relentless optimism."

"It is refreshing, da?"

"Aye, i'tis," he said, relaxing into a gentle smile. "But you know, it's not a fair test. We're much more likely to get on each other's nerves now than if we were both working."

"I know. That is the good part. If we can get through this, we can get through anything."

Scotty laughed, holding his belly with one hand and touching Pavel's face with the other.

"Like I said, relentless optimism."

"Is what keeps us warm on those long Russian nights. And what brings lucky boys like me the love of men like you."

"I do love ye, Pasha," he said quietly. "But I'm afraid I'm going to sleep soon. McCoy, he gave me something before we left sick bay."

"He is sneaky, is ze doktor. Is all right, though, l'ubimaya. You go ahead and sleep. I will be here when you wake, and we will have something good for supper." He flipped onto his back and slid closer, easing his arm under Scotty's neck and encouraging him to lay his head on Pavel's shoulder.

"Some haggis, maybe?"

"Or maybe a nice sandwich," Pavel said. He'd tried haggis once and was not impressed. "We will see when you wake, okay?"

"Aye," he yawned and closed his eyes.

Pavel kissed his forehead and very softly began to sing. He had never forgotten the way Monty comforted him that dark day when he lost his papa, and a part of him had only been waiting for the chance to return the favor. He was very glad, though, that no one had to die.

"_Bayu-bayushki-bayu,_  
Ne lozhisya na krayu.  
Pridyot serenkiy volchok,  
On ukhvatit za bochok  
I utashchit vo lesok  
Pod rakitovy kustok."

"Wha's tha' mean?" Scotty mumbled, not opening his eyes. Pavel smiled his sweetest smile, prepared for just this question. It was his favorite lullaby and he had translated it into English long ago.

"_Baby, baby, rock-a-bye_  
On the edge you mustn't lie  
Or the little grey wolf will come  
And will nip you on the tum,  
Tug you off into the wood  
Underneath the willow-root.

"In Russia, we worry wery much about wolves," he whispered, petting Scotty's forehead. "One of the things I do not miss in space. But you will sleep well and not dream of wolves, my love. Not as long as I am here.

"_Bayu-bayushki-bayu,_  
Ne lozhisya na krayu.  
Pridyot serenkiy volchok,  
On ukhvatit za bochok  
I utashchit vo lesok  
Pod rakitovy kustok."


End file.
